


A Delicate Situation

by Cahaya (Tarlaith)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Casual Prostitution, Goodnight's hair fetish, M/M, Robbery, Slight Possessiveness, promptfill, wall-sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlaith/pseuds/Cahaya
Summary: Billy thinks selling his body for some quick cash is a perfectly reasonable idea. Goodnight strongly disagrees.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: "Goodnight and Billy are on the road and run out of money but need it quite desperately, so Billy casually offers to sell his body for quick cash. They aren't together (but there are burgeoning feelings) and Goodnight wants to respect his bodily autonomy or whatever so he goes along with it, sure that everything will be cool. But then when Billy actually gets down to business with some john he picks up, Goodnight becomes overwhelmed with jealous protective rage and (this is optional: if the guy's too rough with Billy or even for just no reason at all, Goodnight loses control and beats the guy) puts a stop to it.  
> My kinks for this scenario are specifically the part where Billy's a casual prostitute and also Goody's ENORMOUS RAGING POSSESSIVENESS. Everything else is a lovely bonus. :)"  
> on the [Mag7-kink-meme](https://mag7-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/1188.html?thread=11684#cmt11684)
> 
> Not beated. For anachronism-warning see End Notes. (Spoiler alert.)

“There are only a few things more riveting than a bath surrounded by nature's beauty,” Goodnight said with a happy sigh, not for the first time, and ran his fingers through his almost dry hair. It was unusually soft without the slick, almost like Billy's. They were on the way back to their campsite, wandering unhurriedly through a copse of trees. “The Greeks and Romans used to do that; bathing in the company of friends. They considered it a great pleasure.”

Billy hummed noncommittally, not really listening past the familiar lull of Goodnight's voice, and Goodnight smiled, remembering the time he'd talked Billy to sleep on his horse. He still wasn't quite sure if Billy had been faking it, just to make a point. “Now off to Junction City for a good meal and better entertainment. We might even get some work done.”

They reached the edge of the forest and Billy stopped dead in his tracks. “Or not. Where are the horses?”

Frowning, Goodnight took a look around. This was undoubtedly their camp and those were _their_ bedrolls; the fire had burned down but the ashes were fresh. The horses, tied to a tree with enough rope to graze nearby, were nowhere to be seen. “Off for a leisurely stroll? Maybe you didn't bind them tight enough.”

“ _You_ did that,” Billy pointed out, stalking over to the fireplace with a scowl on his face. “Where are the saddlebags?”

With an uneasy feeling, Goodnight surveyed the campsite, but the answer was as clear as it was unpleasant: their stuff was gone. Bags, pots, food, ammunition, even the books. Stolen, most likely, since he didn't think the horses would take the time to pack up their supplies before taking off.

“Sons of–” Billy spat out a string of Korean, too fast and garbled to make out any words, but Goodnight suspected it involved several animals in very imaginative positions on an already crooked family tree. He watched Billy stomp over to his bedroll and turn it over, a wasted effort since he could plainly see the footprints in the dirt. They led past the fireplace to his own bedroll and further on, out into the grasslands.

“Rather the same direction as ours,” Goodnight mused, tapping the butt of his rifle.

“We have to find them.”

Goodnight turned to raise an eyebrow at Billy. “How? We can't catch up to them on foot and the trail will be gone by tomorrow at the latest.”

“We're going to _kill_ them,” Billy declared, gritting his teeth as he started rolling up the mat. There was a crease between his brows Goodnight's hadn't seen before. He'd seen Billy irritated plenty of times, of course, usually when Goodnight quoted effusive poetry as he was wont to do on the trail, but this was real anger. It reminded Goodnight of a cougar on the hunt, a single minded killer, crouching in the dirt to wait for his opportunity. Or perhaps a bobcat, always moving, muscles playing under that beautiful spotted coat like the sunlight filtering through the leaves played on Billy's hair.

“Let's go,” Billy said, thrust the bedroll into Goodnight's hands and gathered up the second to roll while he walked.

“I loathe to remind you, _cher_ , but we will need supplies and horses for a manhunt like you're undoubtedly planning in your head. And for both of those we need cash.” Goodnight winced as he calculated the figures in his head. “It will take some time to make that much money.”

Billy shot him a look over his shoulder. “How big is Junction City?”

“Bigger than most towns we've been to, with an insatiable hunger for entertainment.” Goodnight shrugged and fell into step beside Billy. “But we'll have to pay for lodging. There won't be any friendly housewives willing to let two vagabonds stay over for a few days.”

They would also need food as soon as they arrived, Goodnight thought uneasily. They'd had breakfast before setting out for the creek this morning, but it would take a few hours of walking to reach their destination. Shooting something was also not an option, he still had his rifle, but they would need the two bullets currently in it to defend themselves. Because no matter how much he liked to believe it, Billy wasn't the most dangerous predator out here.

“Getting money is not a problem,” Billy said, jerking Goodnight from his thoughts. “There are always things white men are willing to pay for.”

Goodnight's gaze flickered down to the knives. Billy had his hand curled around one of them, thumb toying with the butt of the handle. “I applaud your confidence, but I doubt we'll just run into someone in need of your _other talents_. Junction City might be bigger, but that doesn't mean a dead body will go unnoticed.”

Billy, inexplicably, started to smirk. “There's always someone needed with talent in the _oldest profession_.”

Goodnight tripped over his own feet, and Billy threw his head back, laughing.

 

-

 

In Junction City, Goodnight managed to talk the proprietor of the inn into giving them a room despite their rugged appearance. Billy, who had popped by the supply store in the meantime and missed most of the heated conversation, plucked the key from Goodnight's hands and firmly locked the door behind him, silent as he'd been the whole way here and completely unwilling to discuss _the matter_ further.

Goodnight stood in the hallway and stared at the door, pondering the very serious possibility of dying of curiosity. His mind had started producing increasingly confusing images of Billy in soft, low candlelight about two hours ago, with faceless white men hovering far too close, splaying their dirty hands on Billy's bare chest. Cheeks burning up to his ears, Goodnight nonetheless found himself trying to puzzle out how Billy's moans would sound. Or if he even did moan. Did he like being touched by men? Would he have offered if he didn't? Why the hell was he even thinking about this? Red like a _torero_ 's _muleta_ , Goodnight retreated to the lobby to drown his embarrassment in alcohol.

The sun had almost set when Billy came down, dressed only in black slacks and a shirt, looking more relaxed than ever, confident stance emphasizing his solid built and the width of his shoulders. He wordlessly ushered Goodnight down the street and up into the saloon, deflecting every attempt at conversation until Goodnight grabbed his arm. “C'mon, Billy, you can't just go in there without telling me what you're– _how_ you even–”

“' _How_ '?” Billy's mouth twitched. “Surely you don't need explanation on _that_?”

“What? No! I mean–” Goodnight sputtered. Billy patted his shoulder, chuckling, and pointed to an empty table before wandering off towards the bar.

Muttering to himself, Goodnight sat down, feeling slightly uneasy as he watched Billy gracefully weave past a painted waitress, offering her a smile. It was strange to see him like this, without his guns or knives, and Goodnight prayed to god that Billy wasn't planning to rely on his fists alone if things went awry. He could be too full of himself, sometimes.

Originally Goodnight had expected Billy to come back with drinks for both of them, but to his surprise, Billy sat down at the bar. Belatedly, Goodnight realized that Billy would need to be alone for this, and the clammy sensation in his stomach grew heavier. He ordered a beer from the waitress as Billy got his from the barkeeper.

Goodnight kept his eyes on Billy after his drink arrived, but the bastard didn't even look in his direction once and kept surveying the other patrons with an expression of friendly neutrality. An hour passed like this, without anything happening except the mood in the room getting more jovial, and Goodnight started to doubt this would even work. Billy didn't look any more inviting than before, how would anyone _searching_ even know?

Goodnight was just about to stand up and walk over when a man sat down beside Billy, leaning in to talk to him. He was white, dressed in well-tailored, spiffy clothes that had probably never seen a trail before, but his boots were well-worn and dusty. In profile, Goodnight could see that his beard was neatly trimmed. All in all, he looked far to proper for a... sodomite. A false alarm, then. Just someone curious about a face as exotic as Billy's. Oddly relieved, Goodnight sank back into his chair – only to almost fall off it when both men got up and sauntered out the door.

One of the other patrons quickly grabbed Goodnight's shoulder to keep him upright, laughing. “Too much to drink, Sir?”

Goodnight shrugged off the hand, casting a suspicious look around to check if any of the others had noticed the two men leaving. “Not nearly enough, my friend. Got a cigarette?”

The man eyed him. “Can I have your beer?”

 

-

 

The night was dark and cold as Goodnight stepped out of the saloon, stuffing the cigarette into his pocket as he took a look around, wondering where Billy had gone. The buildings stood side by side like pearls on a necklace, there were not many narrow back alleys to conduct business as this. Goodnight doubted Billy would have gone far, whether he expected Goodnight to follow him or not. The closest corner of black was across the street beside the tailor's shop. Goodnight snuck closer, trying not to make a sound as he told himself that he wasn't here to interrupt, merely to make sure Billy wouldn't get hurt.

He stopped in the shadows of the porch and heard a hitched gasp, followed by the clink of a belt. _He's getting his dick out_ , Goodnight realized, blushing furiously. A soft moan floated past him and yes, that was Billy. There was a scuffling sound next, and something wet; the guy was probably pressing Billy against the wall as he kissed him. Goodnight's cock twitched, swelling just enough for his slacks to feel tight. He crept a bit closer, trying to see what exactly was going on. Goodnight was no stranger to intimacies between two men, but his own adventures had been no more than youthful indiscretions, he'd never... _watched_.

 _I'm doing this for Billy_ , Goodnight sternly reminded his cock as he slid into the alley. _Just for Billy's safety. The moon is clouded, if I want to interfere in time I need to be this close._

He couldn't see much more from here, either, only vaguely make out the two huddled figures in the light from the saloon. But he could hear them much better now; Billy's grunts and the other man's moans.

“You're so beautiful, _mon cheri_ ,” the man whispered, and Goodnight cringed because that was _definitely_ a Louisiana drawl. And that fucker even dared to call Billy _darling_ , without knowing him!

“Spread your legs, yeah. Lord above, you're gorgeous.”

Goodnight felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to punch the guy. He might have, but he didn't want to upset Billy.

A gust of wind picked up, curling coolly around his legs, and above them the moon peeked out behind the clouds, casting the alley in a dim gray glow. Goodnight flattened himself against the tailor's shop. He'd been right before, the Cajun had Billy pinned against the wall with his body, cradling Billy's face in his hands. Billy's pants were pooled around his knees, bunched up over his boots, revealing his smooth, well-muscled legs.

“I can't wait to fuck you,” the man whispered, reaching up to tug the pin out of Billy's hair. Goodnight bristled, something hot flaring in his belly.

Silky strands spilled over Billy's shoulders in a cascade of raven, and the Cajun dug his fingers in, moaning. “God, I want to hold you down. Make you feel it, when I push into you, hard enough to–”

Something in Goodnight snapped. This would stop _right now_. _No one_ had a right to touch Billy like that, especially not for money. Clenching his fists, Goodnight stepped out of the shadows, crunching dirt beneath his boots.

Both men froze, startled, and the Cajun's eyes widened in horror as he spotted Goodnight. “Oh god,” he gasped. “It– it's not my fault, this fairy here made me, he–”

Goodnight's hands settled on his rifle, noting with satisfaction how the man paled. “Get the fuck out of here, you sick _pervert_ ,“ he growled, pronouncing each word clearly and with thinly veiled disgust. When the man didn't react, he cocked the gun. “ _Now_!“

“Yes, of course, Sir, immediately,” the Cajun fumbled for his pants, not bothering with the belt as he scrambled past Goodnight, disappearing into the night. Once he was gone, Billy turned to Goodnight, a murderous look on his face.

“What the hell are you doing? I had him, we needed that money!”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I said: _shut up_.” Goodnight roughly shoved Billy against the wall. “You're not doing this again.”

Billy struggled, but with his own pants limiting his movement he couldn't find enough leverage to push Goodnight off. He bared his teeth instead. “That means _you're_ gonna do it next?”

“No. Any you won't, either. This was a stupid idea.”

“That's not your decision,” Billy snarled, nails digging into Goodnight's shoulders.

“It is in this case.”

“No, it's no– _mmph_!”

Goodnight pressed his lips over Billy's to shut him up, muffling his yelp. Billy tried to force him off with his whole body, but Goodnight took his wrists and pinned them to the wall. In return, Billy bit him, flooding both their mouths with a metallic tang and making the slide of their lips even more wet and slippery. Goodnight was suddenly glad that Billy didn't bring his knives, or he would probably be missing some key parts right now. He drew Billy's bottom lip between his teeth and Billy shuddered.

“What the fuck are you doing, Goody?”

Goodnight inched closer to align their bodies, until Billy's hard cock poked his hip, amazed at the want that surged through him, too powerful to only have awakened today. He saw it mirrored in Billy's eyes and slid his hands to his waist, barely noticing Billy's fingers curl around his upper arms as Goodnight rocked against him. “Surely you don't need explanation on _that_?” 

Billy moaned, melting into him. “Stop it.”

Halting to draw back, Goodnight took in Billy's flushed face and his sinfully red, swollen lips. His pupils were huge and dark and his hard cock was curving upwards against his belly, a delicious sheen of wetness at the tip. “Forget it. God, he was right. You're _gorgeous_.”

Had they but a little more time, Goodnight would have sunk down to taste it without hesitation, but they were out in the open and this had to be quick. He turned Billy around.

“ _Goody_ ,” Billy protested, grasping the wall for balance. “If you do this, I'm going to be too loose for another tonight.” 

“ _Good_.” Goodnight pushed his hand up beneath the shirt and trailed his fingers down Billy's back, feeling the bumps of his spine, before slipping a digit in between those perfect round cheeks. He merely meant to stroke the hole there, tease Billy a bit and then rub off against him, but as he reached the muscle it opened, sucking his finger into his oily, slick hole. “Fuck,” Goodnight cursed. “That's what you've been doing all afternoon.”

Billy groaned, spreading his legs, his tight hot channel constricting around Goodnight and making him gasp. “We _need_ that money.”

“We'll get it some other way,” Goodnight panted, freeing his cock and lining himself up. He pushed in with his finger still inside Billy, trying to go slow, but Billy bucked against him, taking him in one quick slide.

Goodnight's knees turned to jelly at the liquid heat gripping him like a glove. He sagged against Billy, chest pressed flush to his back, head resting on Billy's shoulder. “Oh Lord, wow.”

Billy smelled of sweat and smoke, looking at Goodnight out of the corner of his eyes when he let out a satisfied rumble.

“Those men...,” Billy began, but Goodnight cut him off.

“I don't want you talking about other men right now.”

He bit Billy's lips and felt him smirk.

“Then you will have to do better than _this_.”

Growling, Goodnight gripped Billy's hips with both hands, hauling him back onto his cock to meet his thrusts. Billy whined, scrambling for purchase on the wall and hanging his head, letting Goodnight take the lead as he started moaning his name on hitched breaths. It was different than the times Goodnight had done this before, they weren't horizontal for one, and it was less hasty despite the urgency boiling in both of them.

One of Goodnight's hands found Billy's on the wall, curling around his wrist, and Billy reached back with the other to tangle in Goodnight's shirt and pull him forward, barely allowing him to leave for the next thrust. “C'mon, c'mon, _c'mon_.”

Goodnight groaned and wrapped his arm around Billy, burying his face in that gorgeous hair to breathe him in, pumping into him hard and fast until the pleasure became unbearable, taking over his body as he spilled his seed in short, wet spurts that burned hotter even than Billy's hole around him. Billy let go of him to grip his own cock, stroking it desperately, so close to orgasm but deprived of the delicious friction inside him. Goodnight took pity on him and placed his teeth against the back of Billy's neck, biting down.

Billy keened and came over his own hand, painting the wall with a few drops as well. His knees buckled and Goodnight caught him, turning him to lean against the wall. Billy held onto him with sweaty hands, shivering, a blissful expression on his face.

Gently, Goodnight brushed a strand of hair out of Billy's eyes. “He shouldn't have called you ' _cheri_ '...”

Billy blinked, then scowled. “You are _unbelievable_. Why would you even –?” He gestured between them. “ _Now_?” 

“Uhm...” Goodnight began sheepishly. He was about to lurch into a lengthy explanation of how he hadn't _meant_ to come barging in but was sure glad he _had_ , when Billy suddenly tensed in his arms and pressed a hand over Goodnight's mouth.

“ _Pssht_. Company.”

Now Goodnight could hear it too: the trot of horses with shoes, at least four or five. His gaze flickered to the saloon across the street, where two men rode into view and dismounted.

“Just rack 'em up here,” one of them ordered the other, helping him do just that before disappearing into the saloon with him.

Once they were inside and out of earshot, Billy let go. “Those are _our_ horses,” he hissed, furiously yanking up his pants. “I'm getting my knives!”

 _Well_ , Goodnight thought, suppressing a grin as he followed Billy out of the shadows. He guessed that meant he was off the hook for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Mhm, I wonder if I'll ever manage to finish something that doesn't end in porn... oh, whatever.
> 
> As for the anachronism: "the oldest profession" as a phrase for prostitution only acquired its meaning after WWI, so for Billy to be using it in 18xx makes no sense at all. But I'm the author, I can do what I want.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
